


Always be welcome

by merrythoughts, ReallyMissCoffee



Series: Every part of you [4]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), Reconciliation, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:21:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24796099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrythoughts/pseuds/merrythoughts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReallyMissCoffee/pseuds/ReallyMissCoffee
Summary: "I wanted to extend the invitation for you to stay," he begins, words leaving his mouth almost too quickly. "But I suppose that's not a question, is it?" He glances up at Erik as he wets his lips. It's now or never.[Post-Apocolypse, divergent fix-it & getting together ♥]
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Series: Every part of you [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684630
Kudos: 32





	Always be welcome

**Author's Note:**

> **  
>  _* Highly recommended to read through the series chronologically!_   
>  **
> 
> Here's us working toward our happy ending!
> 
> Disclaimer: This is another merrythoughts & ReallyMissCoffee production. In case you don't know us, just a heads up: this is written first and foremost as an alternating roleplay between us which doesn't necessarily translate smoothly into an easily digestible or traditional fic format.
> 
> At times the flow can be jarring - we know - but please forgo any constructive criticism regarding the format. We are choosing to share our work and if you like it, you like it, if not, press the back button and try something else as we have no interest in attempting to fic-ify our stories and cut down on the introspection/words etc. Thanks! :)  
> ______  
> Erik written by ReallyMissCoffee, Charles written by merrythoughts

* * *

* * *

Despite the destruction and lives lost, the final outcome is what matters. En Sabah Nur did not destroy the world to rebuild it from the ashes. Those hellish scenes of burning and blood still crop up in Charles' nightmares, and he can still feel the oily wrongness of that mutant's consciousness seeping into his own mind, but he pushes past his trauma.

Trauma isn't new to Charles Xavier. Besides, he has a school to rebuild, lives to look after. Erik is here and Raven is back and Charles has a duty to his students. It allows him to move on and press ahead. 

It's on a sunny day, when all the materials have been gathered, that Jean and Erik carefully rebuild the school. It's like a painting coming to life before Charles' eyes - and the eyes of each and every mutant student who returned to find a home and family waiting. 

And it feels so good to see Erik _create_ and _build_ instead of destroy and lash out. Metal is manipulated, wooden planks floated and pieced together, and it's awe-inspiring. Charles' heart soars.

Although he'd first abetted En Sabah Nur, Erik's name has now been cleared. Which opens up the possibility of Erik _staying here_. With them. With _him_. The possibility of it bubbles up within Charles, but he doesn't ask and he doesn't look inside of Erik. He focuses on doing the necessary preparation required to re-open the school and Erik... doesn't leave. 

The day of the rebuild is a long one as once the structure is intact, personal belongings and supplies are moved in next. Given that Charles is wheelchair-bound, he mostly oversees matters. His mind flits around, unobtrusively brushing up against each student's mind to assure himself that they're okay and to remind himself that they're back and safe. 

It seems inconceivable that after such devastation he hasn't lost more, but the school remains, Hank, Raven and Erik... Charles ignores his fear and buries them.

When everyone is more or less settled in and wound down from the day's excitement, Charles decides to wheel himself to Erik's room. It's late, almost one in the morning, but he's only allowed himself to ensure that Erik's awake. Charles doesn't knock - undoubtedly the metal within the wheelchair gives him away already. 

_May I come in?_ He asks instead.

* * *

Erik has lost faith that life will ever be a simple affair for him, but with that resignation comes a sense of something shaped like peace. He will never feel true peace, not with the shadows of his past, not with the lives he's ruined and the destruction he's rent, but this amalgamation of defeat, loss, hopelessness, and a tenuous safety come close.

That he had allowed himself to be taken in so easily rankles. If Erik focuses, he can still feel the whisper of power in the back of his mind, a buzzing strength itching to explode outwards and lay waste to everything around him. It's a whisper, one he doubts will ever truly leave him, but _this_ is his choice. 

It had been his choice to be taken in by a false god, to let whispers of _Elohim_ and his own lack of purpose and will to live twist him back into the weapon he'd been trying so desperately to keep contained. It had been his choice to focus on rage, to let it blind him, to redirect his hatred onto anyone and everything - including those he'd loved. Those he loves. 

But this? This is his choice, too. This is his choice to acknowledge that whisper of power as a fact but give it no control. It will be there if ever he needs it again, but Erik hopes he never will. All he can do now is hope to atone, as despite all odds, those he'd fought against had welcomed him back. Most with understandable caution, but Charles...

It had never been a question whether or not Charles would open his arms to him. It had been fact. Erik wonders bitterly if Charles' patience with him will ever fade, but in the weeks that follow, for some reason, it never does.

Erik isn't sure if Charles knows what had snapped him out of En Sabah Nur's control, isn't sure if Charles knows that it hadn't been Raven's struggle, or the children's terror, but the _thought_ of losing Charles. Erik doesn't supply the information. He simply follows Charles back to Westchester, feeling like a ghost among the living, but he owes Charles his chance. He owes Charles something he doubts he can ever truly repay him for.

The days don't necessarily get easier as Hank and Charles set about finding materials to rebuild the school, but Erik bears them. He sees the looks, the suspicion, even the fear, but memories of Nina and Magda weigh on his shoulders and carry him through. One day, he'll go back. One day he'll visit the twin graves he'd dug with his own hands, but not today. That isn't his life anymore, but this?

This could be. 

Raven is the one to quietly tell Erik that the manhunt for him has quieted. It isn't a comfortable conversation, but Erik respects her enough to listen, and she respects him enough to offer. It's the beginning of peace, of a truce, and if Erik can reconcile with her... perhaps there _is_ hope.

The day of the build is the day that Erik tastes hope again for the first time in a _long_ time. His powers thrum as he assembles each metal support beam, every nail and every screw. He watches as Charles' school slowly constructs itself from the ground up to Charles' own specifications. Erik feels the strain of use on his powers, feels the precision, the dedication. It takes hours, and by the time the last nail has been driven into the structure, he feels exhausted, but there's a bone-deep satisfaction settled deep in Erik's core. 

There's still suspicion in the eyes of some of the students, but others look at him with satisfaction. Jean smiles at him and the boy who had been there with Raven - the same one who had assisted Erik all those years back - keeps awkwardly looking at him and then looking away, but there's satisfaction there, too. Erik keeps expecting him to say something, but the words never come. Instead, he volunteers to help move furniture back inside, and by the end of the night, Erik's muscles are sore and weak, he's caked in sweat and dust, but he feels... good.

It's late in the evening when Erik finally showers in the guest room that had once belonged to him. Or... a version of the room, at least. It's bare, with little but a bed, a standalone table and chair, and two books, but when Erik dresses again and sits down on the bed, it feels similar to before. 

At first, Erik doesn't really register the metal he feels moving throughout the halls. He's exhausted, his muscles sore, his mind tender from the overuse of his powers, and his thoughts are unfocused. Yet when that metal gets closer and takes shape, Erik stills. He looks over at the door, waiting, reaching out, lightly touching the spinning wheels and metal supports, and-- oh.

Charles' voice brushes along Erik's mind, soft, almost hesitant, and Erik closes his eyes with a small shiver. Reaching up, he turns the doorknob with his powers and then pulls the door open, and the sight of _Charles_ there has something complicated and settling twisting in his chest. Charles asks to come in.

"Of course. It's your home," Erik says, but nods his welcome anyway. "It's late. Is everything all right?"

* * *

There are nerves thrumming through Charles, twists of anxiety squirming in his stomach because what they're potentially facing is new for them. A chance of staying with one another, a chance at moving forward _together_? While Charles has wanted Erik to remain next to him, given how many years have passed, given the obstacles popping up along their paths, it certainly never seemed to be a plausible outcome for the two of them.

Yet here they are. The school freshly rebuilt, the scent of wood and metal permeating the air. Charles should get the children to be opening the windows during the day tomorrow to air it out, but it's of little concern right now. Not when he has Erik in the room he once occupied, not when there could be a chance...

Charles is in loose fitting cotton pyjamas and a dressing gown. When he's able, he prefers dressing comfortably and in layers as it's easier to hide the occasional muscle spasm that may occur in his legs (which then seems to draw ire or confusion from onlookers as partial spinal cord injuries are less known and understood). Certainly not fashionable, but with a newly bald head and wheelchair bound, Charles won't be winning any beauty awards.

Given the scope of Erik's work today, Charles can detect a thread of mental and physical exhaustion blanketed atop Erik. Even so, it's too late to turn back and Charles can sense the reaction his voice brings out in Erik. 

His heartbeat quickens and this time Charles doesn't pull away from Erik's mind, he keeps his mental presence light, but there, and as Erik utilizes his powers, Charles wears a small, pensive smile on his face as the door opens. 

"It is late, my apologies," Charles replies before rolling his way inside Erik's room. He doesn't come all the way over to the bed, but he clears the doorway, allowing them privacy if need be. 

Freshly showered and dressed, Erik may look tired, but he also looks _good_. There is a lightness to him that Charles wants to explore more of.

"But I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't ask you something."

* * *

Charles looks good. He's always looked good to Erik, always looked open and warm, but there's something more to it now. The small, pensive smile on Charles' lips looks like it's comfortable there, delicate lines indicating that this is an expression he must hold often. He's wheelchair bound, but he's sitting tall, an ease in his shoulders that Erik instinctively feels himself itching to gravitate towards, but he keeps himself where he is.

It isn't that they haven't talked over the last few weeks, but they've not been able to _really_ speak the way that they once had. At every turn, there had been a student, some fearful, some hesitant, some excited, all bristling with nervous energy. Erik hadn't felt comfortable intruding on that, hadn't wanted to step between Charles and this life that Erik's had very little part in. 

He hadn't wanted to see the hopeful smiles fall from the lips of the children. And, in a secret, anguished part of Erik's mind, he hadn't wanted to risk interrupting the soft, caring look in Charles' eyes, so similar to the way that Erik had once looked at Nina...

But here, like this, there are no students around. The remnants of sawdust and the scent of residual hot metal linger in the air like a fog of _new_ and _home_ and _hope_ , and despite the deep ache in Erik's muscles and his heavy exhaustion, he can't help but feel viscerally proud and accomplished. Once, not long ago, he'd found satisfaction in working with machinery, with his hands. In creating. But never has he felt it like this. Never has Erik felt like he's done something right with no risk of catastrophe. 

It means that despite his exhaustion, despite his soreness, when Charles wheels himself into Erik's room, Erik feels cautiously optimistic. The deep-set resignation is still there; he still feels the loss like an open sore in his heart, but Charles exudes a sense of calmness, of the sort of serenity that Erik had only ever managed to find here, with him. He breathes in deep and with a thought, the door closes carefully behind Charles. 

The threat of Charles _asking_ something of him does send a flicker of alarm through Erik's mind, but he doesn't stand and leave. He sits there, borrowed t-shirt too tight across his chest and too short in the arms, but his borrowed pajama pants loose on his hips, and he meets Charles' eyes with cautious curiosity.

"I'd offer you a drink, but I don't have anything," Erik says quietly. "But I can offer you my attention."

* * *

While Charles would have liked to sequester Erik away and have this conversation much sooner, it's been difficult for him to find more than a few minutes alone. He's truly grateful for the haste and due diligence in tackling the school's rebuild as well as facilitating the move-in for the students. Having the project - the distraction - has likely helped all of them after the unsightly business in Cairo. It's allowed them to start transitioning back to normalcy.

The fact that Charles is thinking that Erik could possibly be included in his everyday normalcy is... absolutely thrilling and equally unsettling because it's just seemed inconceivable for so long. 

Great divisions arose on the beach in Cuba and for a long time, hurt and anger gripped at Charles, pulling and keeping him down. Whilst drowning in the sludge of resentment and pain, Charles couldn't imagine ever finding his way back to Erik.

But much has transpired since that bullet and his first attempt at Xavier's School for the Gifted. They're older men, hopefully wiser too, and Charles knows he must take this leap. 

The door is now closed, they have their privacy, their moment. Even so, Charles keeps tabs on the inhabitants, his priority keeping this moment private. The flit of alarm in Erik's mind is observed by Charles, but he doesn't get up in arms about it. Erik's been through much, lost much - his wife and child, his old life - and Charles knows that the man sitting on the bed is frayed at the seams. He must tread carefully.

"That's quite all right," Charles answers, warmly. While a nice scotch wouldn't go amiss, Charles isn't interested in either of them leaving to fetch a bottle and glasses. 

Almost shyly, Charles casts his eyes down to his lap where his hands attempt to not fidget with the loose belted tie around his waist. He doesn't trust himself to not overshare or overwhelm Erik with his own thoughts, so Charles opts to speak normally. 

"I wanted to extend the invitation for you to stay," he begins, words leaving his mouth almost too quickly. "But I suppose that's not a question, is it?" He glances up at Erik as he wets his lips. It's now or never. 

Charles couldn't ask that night on the balcony, but he can now. "Would you stay, Erik?" _Stay with us. Stay here._

Charles hopes that Erik may be able find a home here too. 

* * *

There are any number of ways that this evening could go, but Erik suspects that he knows Charles' question before it even passes his lips. Suspecting isn't the same as knowing, but even with the looming possibility of knowing, Erik isn't sure how he feels. 

This has been a fraction in time, these past couple of weeks, from going back to Westchester with Charles and his students, to assisting in locating suitable materials for the school. Erik remembers his own numb shock at the sight of the decimated school, remembers the surge of guilt and regret he'd felt at the knowledge that not only had this been his fault, but that Alex had died as a result of it. He hadn't sought permission before beginning the clean-up, picking twisted metal from the earth and moving it to safety, before bending to clear the debris with his own hands. His mess, his task. 

These last few weeks have felt almost out of time, for him. Busy, yes, but also penance in a way. Now, with his hands rough and slightly blistered, a deep, productive soreness in his muscles, and the school standing around him, reality is slowly creeping back up on him. 

Erik has given little thought to _reality_ since burying his family, and the panic that twists through him lingers there. The unknown has never been kind to him, but this is _Charles_. After this, after _everything_ between them, Erik owes him his ear, his attention, and... his request.

Charles looks anxious, though it's that same mild, hopeful anxiousness that had driven Erik mad at Charles' ridiculous idealism all those years ago. Now, older, lost, and arguably fundamentally broken, Erik sees that same anxiousness and finds it... settling. Endearing, perhaps. The knowledge that Charles can still feel warmth and uncertainty but _still_ hope for the best is like a whisper from the past.

But his request... 

Erik goes still, a tension bleeding back into his shoulders. He'd expected it, but hearing it out loud, thinking about the _reality_... it leaves something raw and hollow and irrational in Erik's chest. A wave of something strong and all-encompassing washes over him, but the ferocity of it is too complex for even him to parse. Erik looks away, pulse quicker.

"Have you really thought that through?" He asks, and while there's only a hint of regret in his voice, the fact that it's there says a lot. "The other students-- After everything I've done, is there... Do I even-" _have the right_.

Erik cuts off with a small sound of frustration. He's quiet for a moment, and then, hesitantly, he lifts his hand and taps two fingers against his temple. The words won't come, but they don't need words. Not with Charles. 

Erik closes his eyes, inviting him in, beckoning Charles to look for himself. To look through the swathes of loathing, the grief, the guilt, the _want_ , the suspicion. Everything that Erik can't put to words. 

* * *

Given Charles' responsibilities and obligations, he tries to be mindful with his alcohol intake. Not that he suspects that Erik and he would have drunk enough to become sloshed, but alcohol is numbing, and Charles can't have that, can't be tempted by the burn of the liquid down his throat and the eventual dulling of senses. 

This moment deserves his full focus with no distractions available to him. This moment is charged, a poignant step that Charles is taking, and he's uncertain what the outcome will be. He may be a telepath, but he's no fortune teller, he's not gifted with precognition. Their past has already been written, but their future? It's _being_ written. Charles has a chance to possibly keep Erik here, to mend and soothe and keep Erik safe. With _him._

Although Charles doesn't say it, it's obvious. Charles asks if Erik will stay _with them,_ but he's also asking Erik to stay with _him_.

Observantly, Charles waits and watches Erik. He sees the reaction, the tensing of muscles, the uncertainty, the _gravity_ of this question. It's no easy request, no simple invitation. It's rife with implications and Charles' lips flatten when Erik looks away. He understands, but it still hurts.

Charles waits. He listens. Erik may have been pardoned, but there will always be some that think him the monstrous villain. It _is_ a risk for Erik to stay here, but Charles would fight against any possible backlash because being human means forgiveness and second chances and Erik could do good. Charles already has a plan.

He doesn't share his plan, however, because with a simple movement of fingers, Charles is issued an invitation of his own. With a slow intake of breath, Charles closes his eyes and he lifts his own fingers to his forehead and on his next exhale he takes the plunge. He doesn't hold himself back, he embraces each roaring vulnerable thought that twists within Erik's mind.

_'I don't deserve this chance, not after what I've done. This couldn't ever be mine - this life - this chance at a home. I'm dangerous. I've always been dangerous. A weapon so easily primed to fire. Why does he want me to stay? What good could I possibly do? I tried peace, I tried-- What if Charles winds up like **them**? I can't lose more. This is Charles' dream, surely I'll stain it--_

It's a flood of thoughts and Charles feels almost winded by the depth of feeling there. Erik's guilt, his suspicion, his want, grief - all of it swirls in Charles' mind, none of it surprising, no, but complex and delicate nonetheless. Gently, Charles pulls back and when he opens his eyes, they're glossy. 

"Oh, my friend," Charles begins softly. He wants to roll over to Erik, to reach out and hold his hand or to prop himself up next to Erik on the bed, but Charles is trying to temper himself. 

"I want you here. You can find purpose again, this can be your home, I promise you."

* * *

Erik knows the gravity of what he's offered even before his fingers touch his own temple, but he has no other option. It's been years - so many years - since he'd willingly invited Charles into his mind. The swirl of thoughts, Charles' presence skimming across his mind like a caress, Charles overtaking him, or finding him with Cerebro... none of those are the same. 

None of them have the same gravity of meaning, the same suffocation of intimacy. Erik might recognize Charles' presence in his mind, but inviting Charles in, lowering his own mental shields, and allowing Charles to peer past the ugly curtain within? That means something different.

Erik doesn't need to look to know that Charles understands, and Charles, ever polite, ever careful, is delicate in his acceptance. There's no rush of presence in Erik's mind, no shove, no eclipsing consciousness. There's just _Charles_ , a foreign warmth, a quiet observer, barely touching each thought before moving to the next. Erik fights back the desire to hide, the desire to throw every shield possible up to protect himself. 

This is Charles. Charles has always been different. Despite everything, Erik trusts this man.

Erik swallows hard and weathers the storm, pushing the complicated tangle of emotions for Charles to do with as he sees fit. And when he feels the slow, odd lack of warmth left behind as Charles delicately withdraws, Erik finally opens his own eyes. He breathes in a deep, slow breath and finds that his lungs feel as tight as they do after a long, hard run, but when Erik looks back over at Charles, a small tangle inside of him begins to unwind. 

Charles' eyes have a telling sheen to them. There's something about the visible emotion that eases some of the tension in Erik's shoulders. Seeing his own grief plain on Charles' face, _recognizing_ it for what it is, having proof that the emotions are real, that they're valid and not constructed or being manipulated by someone else... there's something healing about that. 

Erik lets out a slow breath, but there's a thickness that feels lodged in his throat as he looks at Charles and listens to him.

Erik had had purpose once. He'd had family. He'd had honor. He'd had a _cause,_ even if it feels brittle and broken now. Looking at Charles, ever hopeful, his eyes still kind despite everything, and his heart so damnably, impossibly open, Erik wonders if maybe he could be right. If there _could_ be a place for him here. Whether or not he deserves it is up for debate, but that Charles _wants him_ here isn't.

"You always did trust so blindly," Erik says softly, but without bite to his voice. He sounds almost... sad. "Of all things to lose, that would have been the hardest for you. You always had faith when others didn't." 

Erik doesn't say 'faith in me', but they both know what he means. 

He draws another slower, steadying breath, and then nods once. "...Give me time. I've caused you so much pain and I won't do that again. Not if I can avoid it. But... I _have_ missed you. Terribly."

* * *

Charles could convince Erik of anything, he could tamper with his memory, erase and inject ideas and beliefs as he saw fit, but Erik's never asked him and Charles - although tempted - would never want to play with Erik's mind in such a manner. He'd done it to Moira, yes - wiped clean their history to keep the mutants safe - and although recently he gave her the memory back, and they shared a kiss, it's certainly not an avenue Charles is going to pursue. 

Moira McTaggert is a strong human ally who he undoubtedly holds a fondness for. He's still a man, he still has a craving for companionship, and he's read her enough to know that him being confined to a wheelchair wouldn't matter.

But thoughts of Moira are far from Charles' mind as he watches Erik. Charles wants to wrap Erik's fractured mind in warmth and security, he wants to project calmness, to impress upon Erik that he's forgiven. Charles may cringe away from the violence and destruction that Erik has wrought, but it would do no good to throw it in Erik's face. Erik's never been malicious, instead his violence borne of desperation and the desire to protect.

Wet eyed, Chalres doesn't want to become sentimental in front of Erik, but he won't hide his emotions. Charles _is_ affected deeply by Erik, by the harsh critical voice, the anguish - how could he not be? Charles may be affected, but it's not pity he feels. Erik wouldn't want it and neither would Charles if he was in Erik's position. 

They haven't spoken at any length about Erik's previous life, but Charles had seen it. Erik, hardworking and humble, working with his hands in a metal factory, friends with the other men, _human_ men. His wife, their beautiful child Nina who was also gifted... Charles isn't looking to be any sort of substitute, but he must offer his home, the school, as a refuge for Erik to stay. 

Erik speaks of his trust, his supposed blind trust, and Charles smiles sadly as he tries to blink away his tears. The request for _time_ is certainly reasonable and Charles takes a few seconds to pull himself together. A selfish part of him wants to make Erik promise that he'll stay, so Charles can return to his room and replay the words in his head. But Charles would hate Erik to feel confined and caged. He wants Erik to stay of his own accord. That's the only way it can be.

What Erik ends with has Charles' chest tightening in an ache and he shifts in his chair to try and cover the fact that he feels shaky. Erik's missed him… terribly.

"If you want..." He begins, slightly uncertain but Charles decides to go ahead. "I can help you sleep. I know you've been having nightmares."

* * *

Erik doesn't give himself much time to think about it, but for one breath, a few small seconds, he lets himself picture what it might be like to stay. It seems almost impossible, an idyllic life so far beyond him. It's such a foreign idea that the only thing that Erik can truly picture is Charles' old study. The warmth of an old, flickering fireplace, the scent of old books, the glint of scotch in diamond-patterned tumblers, and the hardwood chess pieces moving along the board. Erik can picture that single moment so clearly, can practically hear Charles breathing across from him, and the warm, comfortable feeling between them. 

But that isn't his life. That isn't even this school. Charles' old study is gone, replaced with something remade to Charles' specifications. Erik had helped shape it, had helped carry a sofa upstairs, but he hadn't dared to intrude on Charles' space. Not like that. This school is no longer a manor, is no longer grand and empty. It houses children - other mutants, outcasts - and Erik can't picture that. The concept leaves hesitation weighing heavily in his chest. 

When has it ever been safe to keep a loaded gun around a child? How much damage might he do? 

Yet still Charles wants him to stay. Erik doesn't know whether that says something damning about him, or about Charles. Possibly both. 

It's Charles' eyes that hold the unshed tears, though. It's Charles who sits there, present, vulnerable, beseeching. It's Charles who has protected and taught these children. He has always been a capable man. Always been smart, caring, and sure. He is strong in ways that Erik has never been, and even now, the desire to simply lean against him - mentally, emotionally, perhaps even physically - is there, burning lowly in Erik's chest. 

Charles wants him to stay, and Erik can't picture that, can't even begin to let himself think about what that might mean. 

But Charles doesn't push. He accepts Erik's request for time, and while Erik can see the flickers of muted desperation in Charles' eyes, Charles doesn't insist. He could. He could make Erik do anything he desired, but the strength in this man is not that he _could_ , but that he _won't_.

Charles is stronger than Erik will ever be. In a way, that's a comfort.

Yet, instead of turning and leaving, Charles hesitates. Erik sees him shift - such a small movement, but just out of place enough to attract Erik's attention - and when Charles looks at him, there's something tentative in his eyes. Erik watches, quiet, and when Charles finally speaks - his voice respectful, and gentle - Erik feels a small, aching twist deep in his chest.

He doesn't ask how Charles knows. He doesn't recoil, doesn't attempt to deny the fact that his nightmares have been endless. Erik is no stranger to sleep being the enemy, but it's been ruthless the last few weeks. Cruel images of Nina and Magda, of confinement, of Erik losing hope, and of Erik losing what little he has left. 

The thought of being free of them, even for one night, is like a physical blow. Erik's jaw clenches unsteadily, but he already knows his answer. He looks at Charles, still conflicted, still resigned, yes, but there's trust in his eyes, too. 

"Would you?" He asks quietly, shoulders lowering. "Just this once. I'd be grateful."

* * *

Despite what Charles has offered, Erik's previous words latch on inside Charles' mind and refuse to let go. The sentiment isn't shocking or unexpected, but to hear it, for Erik to choose to admit that he's missed Charles _terribly_? Charles wonders if it's meant to be some consolation prize, or perhaps reassurance. One night, years ago, thoughts flowed freely between them, their own cocoon of closeness created by them. But each subsequent reunion since then? Charles feels like they've always been carefully stepping around each other. Guarded honesty, skimming the surface as it were. Even the explosions of anger or hurt didn't plunge into the depths.

Now is no different, but what lurks under the surface is an intense storm that neither one of them can get swept up in. Now isn't the time to force issues and demand answers. Charles could get at those answers, like a thief in the night he could try and snatch them from Erik, but any answers gained in such a manner would be soiled, and Erik's trust is far more important than Charles' antsy questions being answered.

After everything, how does Erik feel about him? Should Charles back off and allow him more space? Could Erik ever be happy here? 

They're selfish questions and that's why Charles doesn't ask them. Erik hardly deserves the pressure of Charles seeking clarity or lines drawn. It's conventional, beneath them, and yet...

Offering to help Erik sleep without nightmares is much more appropriate. It's something he can do that will have a positive effect on Erik, and Charles hopes that Erik will allow him to help. 

Being aware of nightmares is certainly not new for Charles. Many of the students have had their fill of painful or frightening situations that can take shape in their sleep. Charles doesn't _always_ help because he's aware that it would do them harm in the end, for he won't always be around. Given Erik's re-appearance in his life, Charles knows he's been more sensitive to Erik's mind in general because if Erik is suffering a nightmare, at least it means he's still here and Charles has a chance.

But this is something Charles can offer and he's beyond glad that Erik accepts.

"Of course," Charles says warmly. "Would you like more time to settle or is it all right if you climb into bed now and I send you off?" While it _is_ late, Charles doesn't want to impose that Erik sleep on his watch. Charles doubts he'll be sleeping anytime soon.

* * *

Erik can't remember the last time he'd slept without nightmares waking him up in a cold sweat. Even far away from Poland, even weeks after Apocalypse's death, Erik can still feel the shades of what he'd done lingering in his mind. They, like many things, will linger for decades, and while there's a part of him that feels like he _should_ suffer the memory of Magda and Nina dying, because they'd died due to his own carelessness and sentiment, the thought of a night to _truly_ rest makes him feel almost weak in the knees.

Had anyone else offered, Erik would have turned them down, but Charles... Charles is different. Despite everything that they've been through, despite everything that Erik has done, Charles is still Charles. His smile is still warm, his presence in Erik's mind had still been polite and _real_ , and now, looking at the way that hope flickers behind Charles' eyes at the very _thought_ of helping, Erik feels a deep, bone-weariness and relief slide through him.

If there's one person in the world capable of fending off Erik's demons, it's this man. Erik distantly wonders if he will ever stop owing Charles. Charles, who had taken him in and offered him a home. Charles, who had seen so much _more_ in him, who always seems to see him in the best light, even at his worst. Erik doesn't think he can ever truly acknowledge how monumental a realization that is.

Charles looks so deeply pleased at Erik's permission, as though it is _Erik_ doing _him_ a favor. Guilt twists deep and dark through Erik's chest, but the warmth in Charles' smile tempers it. He considers the room around him, quiet, and then glances back at the bed. 

He _is_ exhausted, his muscles weary, and his mind feeling raw and tired. Yet the fact that Charles is here - here and _real_ \- seems far more pressing. 

Erik stands slowly and reaches out, turning down the sheets on the bed. He adjusts his position to at least settle where he's supposed to, but he doesn't lay back just yet. Instead, he looks over at Charles, quietly drinking in the sight of him. There's so much that Erik wants to say, but it all coalesces down into a burning ache of gratitude in Erik's chest. 

"There's still a lot to do. I should... probably be rested for it," Erik reasons, reluctantly. "But... tomorrow, if there's anything you'd like me to focus on - helping you move your library back in, perhaps - just let me know. It's been too long."

* * *

Charles has also had his fair share of nightmares, but not so much anymore. The worst of them involved the time after Raven left with Erik and Charles had no clue what the two of them would be up to. He feared the worst for Raven, his mind all too adept at coming up with horrible outcomes for her (because he'd known Erik would survive no matter the obstacles put in his way). Healing had been tedious business, the loss of walking a painful blow, but hope and direction for the school had helped.

The school is more than four walls and a foundation, it symbolizes something greater than a mere building and it's endured a war and its very own destruction. Erik's helped rebuild it, and Charles would very much like Erik to reside here. Yes, Erik has the capacity for violence, he's charismatic enough to amass followers and his driven spirit is admirable. These qualities should likely serve as red flags, but Charles will always hold onto what he said all those many years ago and repeated outside of Cairo: _there's good in Erik._

And Erik deserves at least one night of rest (not that Charles wouldn't offer to help tomorrow night or the next). The prospect of helping is far too appealing for Charles. He can't change the past - and Charles wouldn't want to - but he can offer Erik a peaceful sleep.

Charles doesn't inch closer as Erik readies the bed, but once Erik is settled, he does roll himself closer to the bed, within arm's reach. Charles won't reach out, but being closer is better.

Erik already thinking of tomorrow and attempting to plan to busy himself has Charles smiling wryly. 

"We'll deal with tomorrow when tomorrow comes," he replies amiably. "But any help would be appreciated."

Then, Charles' mind reaches out, tentatively touching along Erik's consciousness, offering warmth and reassurance, but not pushing too hard. He uses his powers to coax Erik to relax, all the while mindful to not go too deep or fast with it. As he does, Charles closely monitors Erik for any signs of discomfort.

* * *

It's second nature to think about tomorrow. Always tomorrow. Erik had spent years always thinking of the next day, the next week, the next month. Planning ahead to ensure his family could eat, chopping wood for winter, always absent on routine inspections in the shop, and planning every one of Nina's birthdays for months in advance. 

The ache of it slips through him like a slow, hot stab, cauterizing and infecting at once. He'll never need to do that again. He'll never see her grow up, will never teach her to control her powers--

Erik cuts the thought off there, and when he breathes in again, it's only slightly unsteady. Charles is right. Tomorrow will come when tomorrow will come. It will take him time to remember how to think that way, especially when thinking of tomorrow is much easier than thinking of what Charles has asked him. Labor is a strain for his muscles. Staying...

Staying might be a strain on his hope. His soul - whatever twisted amalgamation is left of one. Could he ever take that risk? Could he ever pretend to belong in a place he'd indirectly destroyed? A place littered with the ashes of a boy he'd once fought beside?

The first touch of Charles' mind against Erik's sends a small jolt of alarm through him, but when he blinks and refocuses, it's to find that Charles has moved in closer. He's close enough that Erik could reach out and touch him if he tried, but Erik doesn't. Instead, with a mental flicker of apology, Erik settles back into this borrowed bed.

Yet despite agreeing to this, despite Erik's permission, he's not prepared for what it feels like. The sensation is like a warm, soft blanket pulled over his senses, something he's only experienced once before - the day that Charles had reached into his mind and pulled out calm and focus. Erik's eyes slide halfway closed and he breathes out slowly, a flicker of amazement passing behind his eyes as Charles' powers slowly work through him. 

It's like being able to breathe again. Like clearing the cobwebs from an attic and throwing open a window on a spring morning to clean the air. Erik swallows, and though thoughts do rise - incessant and unending - they never make it to his consciousness. Charles soothes it all away, protective, careful, and Erik finally allows his eyes to close. They sting, and he's not yet ready to face why.

"I... forgot what this felt like," he says quietly, honestly, because this _means_ something. This is something that Erik will never be able to have on his own. "Thank you, Charles."

* * *

Of course Charles understands _why_ Erik would rather think about tomorrow and what he could possibly do. Existing within this moment, being wholly present in one's situation? It comes with a distinct feeling of uncomfortable vulnerability. To be honest and genuine with oneself is no easy task, especially as Erik is bogged down by grief and guilt. 

Searching for a distraction, pushing to keep busy? Charles understands this because it's often what he does. Perhaps not to the same extent as he once did, but old habits are hard to break.

It doesn't escape Charles that, for all his abilities, for all that he can help others, Charles is unable to help himself. It takes mental effort to erect shields and he's unable to tell himself to sleep and not dream.

But this is something he can do for Erik, and Charles would offer this to Erik every night. A respite from demons, for even if Erik has wrought great destruction and pain, Erik's suffering does not change what happened. Erik _healing_ , however? Erik could do good. 

Charles doesn't think about the fact that focusing on helping Erik helps him not think about his own pain - Alex's death namely and Charles not being strong enough to stop En Sabah Nur in Cerebro. 

He watches Erik, his own face as calm as it can be in his careful concentration. He watches Erik's eyes gradually succumb to closing, and Charles' has to fight against the pleased smile that wants to form on his face. 

_You're very welcome, Erik._

He layers relaxation and assurance and safety upon Erik's mind. He soothes frayed thoughts and while he could command Erik down into a deep dreamless sleep, Charles doesn't. He's gentle with his presence in the hopes of Erik being able to enjoy this for a little while before unconsciousness takes him. 

* * *

There's nothing artificial in the relaxation slowly overtaking Erik's mind. There's nothing chemical there. He doesn't feel the disorienting dizziness and chemical nothingness that comes with drinking far too much. It feels natural, like a stroking of fingers through his hair. Like a heavy blanket settling down on top of him. Or... in a sense, like being very young and feeling safe again. It's been decades since Erik has felt truly safe.

Charles isn't a looming presence in his mind. Erik can't even really feel him, but he _can_ feel the results. Charles soothes away everything, leaving Erik's muscles relaxed and his mind calm. He floats on the feeling, his breathing slowing, and when Charles' voice slides gently through his mind, Erik feels himself sinking even deeper. 

Distantly, he's aware of the desire to pull back. Learned behavior tells him that this isn't what he deserves, but the thoughts never hit. They pass by under Charles' direction, fleeting and unimportant, and Erik lets himself drift on the feeling. 

Of all of the things that Charles has ever done for him, _this_ Erik will remember in stark detail. The warmth, the safety, the comfort, the whisper of Charles' voice in his mind - everything. Erik sinks deeper and deeper into it, and just as the first promise of sleep slides through his mind, Erik thinks in Charles' direction.

There are no words this time, but what Erik pushes is a _feeling_. Erik pushes gratitude in Charles' direction, his mind too relaxed for more, and in mere seconds, Erik's breathing finally evens out, his muscles going lax as sleep finds him under Charles' careful guidance. 

* * *

With Erik's eyes closed, Charles is free to look at him all he pleases. He notes the signs of fatigue, the indications of age staking a claim, but there's now the evidence of relaxation settling over Erik's features. When Charles was younger and only weighed down by his educational pursuits, looks mattered a great deal more, but now? When Charles is able to glimpse and see the many facets within minds - the best and the worst - he knows what's important to him.

Erik is still a very attractive man, even with the looser fitting casual clothing and the scruff upon his face. Charles had seen the more rustic charming life Erik lived over in Poland and he wonders if Erik prefers a smaller space to dwell in. Perhaps Charles could create some sort of addition out back to allow Erik more privacy, but then... Charles knows that too much solitude isn't healthy and interacting with the children, with Hank and Raven again? It would be good for Erik.

Charles stops that rogue line of thinking. He's aware that he's assuming Erik will stay and he really mustn't.

Time. Giving Erik time is a perfectly reasonable request.

Charles likely needs time too, but he can't shake the feeling that perhaps too much time has already passed and if he doesn't act now, if he doesn't--

No.

Despite his own thoughts, Charles keeps Erik's at bay. The task pulls him out of his own overactive brain. Charles' presence is gentle, but insistent as he cradles Erik's consciousness. When Erik's breathing begins to slow, Charles maintains what he's doing. 

Unbidden, Erik's last action before succumbing to sleep is sluggishly projecting genuine thanks at Charles. It's this that almost threatens Charles' concentration, but he puts himself back to it. He gazes upon Erik and now Charles can allow the longing and desperation to show in his eyes, on his face. His show of emotions is for no one. Like this, he can.

He watches Erik, but doesn't reach out. Charles respects him far too much to ever to take advantage. He ensures that Erik's mind remains calm before easing his own powers back, confident that Erik will be all right, at least for tonight.

"You will always be welcome," Charles whispers after a long bout of silence. "Here, and with me."

That stated, Charles wheels himself to the door.


End file.
